


Not Exactly Halcyon Days

by the_case_for_space (thallata)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Dad Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Fluff, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Pre-Recall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-04-28 21:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thallata/pseuds/the_case_for_space
Summary: Not many people would miss Blackwatch the way Jesse McCree did. Not many could. But then, none of the other agents had spent near so much time there.Snippets from McCree's perspective during his time with Blackwatch, focusing on his interactions with other team members. Other tags to be added as needed.





	1. Why'd it have to be lemurs? [Winston and McCree]

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! These are mostly fun interactions that I imagine must have happened or may have happened during McCree's time in Blackwatch.

-11 Years Ago-

 

 

“So you’re the monkey from the moon?” McCree asked with a broad grin. He’d never seen a gorilla before, and to meet one from the moon? The cowboy had been looking forward to this since he had learned they would be stopping at the Watchpoint where the monkey was stationed. He usually wasn’t too keen on the science staff: buncha naïve pencil pushers who couldn’t be bothered to get their hands dirty. But a moon monkey? That’s like something out of a movie…

 

Said monkey looked at Jesse with extreme skepticism. McCree tried to casually check that he was in fact in a clean set of Overwatch duds.

 

“Don’t be rude,” Reyes said while slapping McCree on the back of the head. But Jesse could see the smile in the Commander’s eyes, “He’s a gorilla. Those are apes.”

 

“I am a **scientist** ,” the gorilla said in a surprisingly fussy tone, “And my _name_ is Winston. And I’m not any more closely related to a monkey than you are.” The last part had been added in a hurt sounding mutter, but McCree still caught it. Hell, he hadn’t meant to upset the monkey… ape… _Winston_ , he corrected himself.

 

“Well Winston, if you believe what my Boss here says, I’m actually related to a variety of farm animals. Comes from bein’ raised in a barn I s’pose. I’m Jesse McCree, and I’m sure this won’t be the last time you hear me put my foot in my mouth,” the cowboy said with semi-genuine contrition as he extended his hard.

 

The gorilla looked at him suspiciously, but reached out to hesitantly shake his hand. A small smile formed on his face when Jesse didn’t immediately pull back.

 

“He does do it a lot. Likes to think it’s part of his cowboy charm,” his boss confirmed, “I’m Commander Reyes. Jesse, I need to go talk to Morrison. Be back at the hanger at 16:00. Lets try not to have a repeat of Watchpoint: Madagascar ok?” The commander gave him a friendly nudge, and waved at both of them as he stalked off towards the upper floors.

 

“What happened in Madagascar? I’ve always wanted to visit that Watchpoint; the work they do there on conservation is fascinating.” Winston seemed a little more relaxed now that Reyes had left. Jesse couldn’t blame the gorilla much. Unlike McCree, the commander had been kitted out in full Blackwatch tactical gear, shotguns and all.

 

“The short of it is that lemurs took my hat. I got it back. Might have been a few misadventures on the way. Maybe one smallish explosion. In my defense I was 18. Now every time he leaves me alone in a Watchpoint he can’t resist bring it up,” McCree said with a smile.

 

“Is the hat significant?” the gorilla asked curiously.

 

“Significant?! Can’t hardly be a cowboy without the hat! Or so I felt in my impressionable youth.”

 

“What exactly is a cowboy? The commander mentioned it as well. When you said you were related to farm animals, you didn’t literally mean you have bovine DNA did you?”

 

McCree felt a broad grin spread on his face as the answer to what to do for another four hours without causing another incident presented itself with Winston’s innocent question.

 

“Pft. Naw. A cowboy is well… Winston, partner, are you in for a treat this afternoon. I’ve got a little somethin’ for you called the Magnificent Seven…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winston doesn't seem like he would be up to date on a lot of old pop culture references, so I figured McCree would be more than happy to bring up up to speed.


	2. English, Please [McCree, Reyes and Blackwatch]

-18 Years Ago-

 

 

“Do you have eyes on the package Red Three?”

 

“Yeah Red Two. Ain’t nobody gone near it yet, but there’s some skulkers over yonder,” Jesse said from his perch above the nearly deserted square.

  
“What.”

 

Someone else sighed on the line. By now it was a very familiar sigh.

 

“Try that again Red Three. In English.”

 

“That were English boss!”

 

“That _was_ English, _Squad Leader_ ,” the commander pushed out through gritted teeth. Jesse thought he could actually hear the jaw clenching over the coms.

 

“My point exactly,” Jesse said, not even bothering to keep his shit-eating grin out of his voice.

 

“What are you talking about kid?”asked Vishwanathan aka Red Four, “When I signed up, I was asked if I knew English. I assumed you meant proper _modern_ English. Not some ancient American regional dialect.”

 

“Is the package well or not?” Red Two, Eze, repeated in a frustrated tone. She was new, recruited straight out of a Nigerian militia a few months ago. She did fine when everyone was in the same room, but often had trouble following what Jesse said on coms. To be fair, a lot of people did…

 

Jesse gave a put-upon sigh, but repeated his update.

 

“There isn’t no one…”

 

“ _Anyone._ ”

 

“There isn’t _anyone_ near the package. But there are three… now four _hombres_ …”

 

“ _English_ Jesse,” the commander hissed.

 

“English _Red Three_ ,” Jesse hissed back, absurdly pleased he made Reyes use his name rather than his call sign over the com. Especially given how often Jesse managed to accidently do that back when he joined up.

 

After a second of no one correcting him, McCree continued, “There are six guys who are now pretty clearly about to make a move on the package.”

 

“Ok, everyone get ready. Let us know when they go for it Red Three. Then Red Two and Four, you drive them towards me.”

 

“Rodger Squad Leader.”

 

“Acknowledged Squad Leader.”

 

“You got it Boss.”

 

“ _Squad Leader_ ,” Reyes somehow managed to say while sighing.

 

“You got it _Squad Leader_. They just nabbed the package, and now them scalawags are headin’ for the north exit from the square.”

 

“Go! Go!” Reyes yelled at the rest of the squad. Once everyone was heading the right way he added, “When we get back to the base, I am going to figure out who keeps putting those Westerns back in the film archive, and we will have a conversation only one of us is going to enjoy. And you, Red Three, are going to be taking elocution lessons with the Strike-Commander until you learn to make yourself understood to everyone on the team _comprende_?”

 

Ouch. That was gonna to be rough. He and the Strike-Commander didn’t really see eye to eye about most things. And having the big ol’ boy scout lord it over him didn’t appeal. But still, Jesse couldn’t resist one more dig. He smirked as he moved to the evac point.

 

“ _English,_ boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> McCree is a member of an international taskforce. He seems like he would be really hard to understand sometimes. I can see Blackwatch in general giving him a lot of crap for that.


	3. Morrison's Fun Side [McCree, Morrison, Reinhardt]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission with Overwatch goes awry

-18 Years Ago-

 

“Ok we need to shut this down before that Omnium starts spewing bots again. McCree, I want you go around the left and flank that Bastion. I’ll go right. Reinhardt will go in the front and hold its attention. Be careful not to get pinned down. We don’t have long before the whole assembly process is back on line, so lets go!” Strike-Commander Morrison said, somehow managing to strike a heroic pose while crouched in a steam tunnel near the re-activated Research Triangle Omnium.

 

Overwatch had been suffering from more than the usual number of crises this week, and a nasty flu had cut down any remaining operation-ready agents to pitifully low levels. So the golden Boy Scout had come hat in hand to Blackwatch to scare up some more warm bodies. There had been an offensively smug smile on Reyes when he signed Jesse over to Morrison’s tender care for this mission. As he walked away he heard what could only be called chilling laughter coming from the boss’ office. He was probably thinking about those fuckin’ elocution lessons again…

 

They had started this op with a double handful of what McCree couldn’t help thinking of as… generic Overwatch agents. All buzzcuts and blues. The cowboy could hardly tell ‘em apart. And he swore they kept gettin’ stupider. Then said troops had managed to get pinned down outside the facility, so they were no help at all. Thankfully they weren’t on his com channel either; the urge to punch them earlier had been near overwhelming…

 

Belatedly McCree realized that no one had moved because Morrison was waiting for some sort of response from him.

 

“’Kay. Let’s go then.” The Strike-Commander looked at him in mild disappointment, though given his experience with McCree, not surprise at the lack of formality. It was reflex really… the smaller the Blackwatch team, the more laid back everyone got.

 

“Show some RESPECT, child!” Reinhardt yelled. Damn it, Jesse was going to end up with hearing damage after this mission. And while it wasn’t the first mission he had run with the Crusader, it was the first one where they were in a confined space. A confined space they were attempting to hide in…

 

“Shh!” McCree hissed at the giant. He had forgotten that Mission-Wilhelm was way different than Dinner-Reinhardt. He ignored the child comment though, but only because the massive knight called everyone younger than Reyes child. But Reinhardt was gonna get them pinned in what was basically a kill box if he drew that Bastion over now.

 

“Hmft.” Reinhardt huffed in what might be an indoor voice, but glared at Jesse, waiting for him to apologize.

 

“Fine, orders acknowledged Strike-Commander, sir. Now can we get this show on the road?” He addressed his question directly to the Crusader. They glared at each other until Morisson sighed and dashed off towards his position. Swearing under his breath McCree followed suit.

 

“I’m in position,” he said when he reached the corner two back from the Bastion. There should be a short hallway around it which opened up slightly behind the last known position of the ‘bot. He checked his pistol to make sure it was fully loaded and loosened the snaps on three sets of speed loaders. He missed the solidity of his Blackwatch armor. But there’s no such thing as Blackwatch as far as the world was concerned so he was dressed in his ‘time to mingle with the Overwatch grunts’ outfit. Calling it a uniform would be deeply misleading… it was mostly his off-duty outfit with a little bit of supportive armor. This light stuff wasn’t gonna be much help against a sentient machine gun though. _So don’t get shot then, idiot_ said his inner Reyes _._

 

“I’m in position!” the knight declared over the coms. Loudly.

 

“Man Reinhardt, if you don’t hush up you’re gonna grab its attention before Mor… er, the Strike-Commander’s ready.” Jesse caught himself in time. If he wanted to keep the Crusader quiet, insubordination was clearly not going to help.

 

“Had to take a little detour, there’s a huge hole in the wall I was going to cross behind. I’ll need another minute or two.”

 

Jesse kept crouched behind his blind corner, legs slowly stiffening and sweat beginning to drip down the back of his neck. He wished Boss hadn’t taken his cigars before he got on the jet. As long as he was at it, he wished they had picked someone else for this mission… This was all Reyes’ fault…

 

“I bet right now Commander Reyes is sittin’ in his nice, air conditioned office with a tall glass of iced tea just kickin’ back and watchin’ TV,” McCree complained in a low mutter, “Probably that old Runway show where he just moans about who shoudda been kicked off last week.”

 

To his surprise he heard Morison give a huff of laughter. Dammit, his mic musta picked it up. Now he was gonna get reamed out for ‘lack of proper respect for authority’. Again.

 

Instead Morrision seemed to know exactly what he was talking about “I bet he’s critiquing the seam placement, and yelling about color choices while he smokes those cigars he confiscated from you. Sitting in an… uff… easy chair.” Had Morrison actually just made a joke? And what the hell was taking him so long to get into position? He had been gunfire underlying Morrison’s voice, or was it just noise from something else?

 

“Yeah, with his boots off and his feet up. Just blowin’ smoke rings and goin’ ‘why the fuck are you using chiffon you moron!’ and ‘Jesus Christ, you can’t pair a dinner jacket with fucking hot pants!’” Jesse did his best to duplicate Reyes’ voice when he really got into the show. Given how often he was dragged in to watch with the boss ( _for your education, ingrate_ ) he was pretty good at it by now. McCree wanted to see how far Morrision was willing to take it. If the Strike-Commander had a secret fun side, he was gonna figure it out. And if mockin’ his commanding officer was gonna annoy the golden boy, well that was just peachy too.

 

“Heh. I bet by now Gabe found where I stashed my bourbon again… And he’s watching that episode he _really_ hates.” Jesse had never heard anyone call ‘Commander Gabriel Hardass Big _Jefe_ Reyes’ ‘Gabe’ before. Even Captain Amari called him Gabriel. He could not wait to use this. He was somewhat distracted by the strange background noises when Morrison spoke, but Jesse couldn’t tell what was going on. Whatever, nothing would dare mess with the Strike-Commander’s plans. Heh… _Gabe_.

 

“The one with the ball gowns for chubby teens?” McCree asked, trying to get Morrison to talk more so he could figure out what was goin’ on. He was also suspicious that they hadn’t heard from the Crusader in awhile. The man was **not** quiet. Jesse forced himself not to look around the corner to check.

 

“Yeah… heh. ‘If your seams pucker any more its going to look like they fucking prolapsed.’” Morison’s impression of Reyes was better. Spot on, almost. And it was weirdly shocking to hear the Strike-Commander swear. McCree had been almost positive he would have substituted f’ing or something.

 

“Hah! Then he’s all ‘A keyhole? Like a 250 pound girl wants a fucking tit window.’”

 

“‘A velvet mermaid dress!? Really? Yeah that’s really fucking flattering on the poor kid.’ Heh. Then Gabe’ll… argh!” Morrison abruptly cut off with a pained noise.

 

“Strike-commander, you alright?” Jesse asked anxiously. There was an increasingly tense silence for almost two minutes where before Morrison spoke again. Jesse could hear his breath hissing through clenched teeth when he spoke.

 

“I’m hit, but functional. This wing is a little more populated than where we started. I had to move up to the third floor over the atrium. I have eyes on Reinhardt. He’s pinned down by slicers… I think he lost coms… his helmet is off and melted to the ground; there are a half dozen pinning him down. Your corridor still clear?”

 

“Yeah.” Then belatedly “Sir.” McCree tried not to dwell on the extent to which their intel for this mission had been complete shit.

 

“I can clear the hostiles off Reinhardt from here, but not before the Bastion takes me out.” The Strike-Commander paused. It didn’t fill McCree with confidence about what was coming next. “I’ll draw his fire. Free up Reinhardt. Can you take out the Bastion while I do that?” Jesse wondered if Morrison would do it anyway if the answer was no. His mouth was abruptly dry. He thought about how long it generally took him to take out a Bastion in the combat sims.

 

“I’m back a corner. Didn’t want it to see me, so I have maybe a hundred feet to go. I can take it out by myself, but not without reloadin’.”

 

“I’ve seen you reload, Agent McCree. You can handle it. So here’s what we’re going to do. On one, you start towards the Bastion. On two I get in position. One three, McCree, you take out the Bastion and I help Reinhardt drop everything else. Its focus should be on me, so you should have your shot. We good?”

 

“We’re good. Sir.” McCree loosened his wrists and grabbed a speed loader with his left hand. He would be good, because the other option was to be dead.

 

“Ok. One,” and McCree was off, tearing around the corner. He didn’t see the Bastion in the lobby ahead, but he trusted that Morrison would have said something if it had moved. He pushed himself as fast as he could go.

 

“Two.” He had almost reached the end of the hallway, and slid out into the lobby on his knees, facing where the Bastion had to be, his gun up, aim steady. He heard Reinhardt yell something in German, but couldn’t see him around the ‘bot. The barrel of the gun swiveled around searching for the disturbance. McCree slid to a stop almost close enough to touch it. Too close…

 

“Three!” Morrison must have come out of cover because the Bastion stopped moving and lined up to fire. Jesse emptied his first clip into one of the machine’s few weak spots. Sparks flew, and the Bastion tried to turn back towards Jesse. He rolled to the side and reloaded before emptying the second clip into the same spot. Jesse reached for another speed loader, trying to suppress panic as the Bastion continued trying to turn to focus on him. He had reloaded and was about to be lookin’ down the barrel of an awfully big gun when Reinhardt rocketed straight into to the Bastion, carrying it down the hallway and based on the crash, into a wall.

 

Good, everything was taken care of, he thought while letting out a relived sigh. Maybe Jesse would just sit here for a little while, just till his hands stopped shaking… The nice part about Blackwatch was that face-first assault on a sentient machinegun was never ever plan A. But he had held his own with Overwatch proper, and this mission was all over but throwin’ a switch, and draggin’ the hacker who had restarted the Omnium back to base. He hadn’t let _Jefe_ or Blackwatch down.

 

“You Ok McCree?” The Strike-commander asked as he ambled up, pulse cannon held loosely in his hands. McCree could hear the other Overwatch agents **finally** making their way inside.

 

It was probably the lingering adrenaline that made him respond with, “So what would ‘Gabe’ do after the mermaid dress comment?”

 

“You’re fine, I see…” Jesse was disappointed; he had really hoped Morrison would actually play along a little more. Then to his delight, the Strike-Commander turned back, muted his com and said, “Gabe will probably flay me for telling you about this… But then Gabe, if he has indeed gotten into my bourbon, will pull up his design files. He will then go on, in increasingly inebriated detail, to describe to you exactly how each of these designs is better than the corresponding one on the show. I recommend that if he does this, you just smile and nod. Never, ever make the mistake of questioning his fabric choices after he has had more than two shots.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind sir,” McCree said with a grin.

 

“When you end up doing laps for insubordination, don’t come crying to me cowboy,” Morrison patted him on the shoulder and started to go help Reinhardt extract himself from the wall, before he paused and added in a voice rivaling the crusader’s in volume, “You did a good job today, Agent McCree.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” McCree said with a textbook perfect salute. Well, if they were given from a seated position.

As Morrison turned to walk away, Jesse was almost sure he saw him roll his eyes. Maybe there was a person under all that blue after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure Reyes might enjoy such shows. And that he's shameless about making his friends watch them with him.


	4. First Rule of Blackwatch [McCree and Reyes]

-20 Years Ago-

 

Jesse stuffed his hands in his pockets and was leanin’ against the wall outside a room that had been labeled ‘Strategic Operations and Intelligence Division Supplies’, not really enjoying his first official day in Blackwatch. The Big Boss had gone into what had looked like a small closet about ten minutes ago, and at this point Jesse was pretty sure that whatever was in that room, it weren’t just intelligence supplies. Whatever those might be. He fidgeted awkwardly in the nondescript black sweats he had been handed, missing his own clothes. So what if they had been Deadlock rags, they were pretty much all he had owned.

 

Jesse didn’t have his gun, or his hat. Or his boots. But he did have a brand new tracker they had injected into his arm. That was pretty much the only thing keepin’ him from trying his luck at escapin’. That and the near certainty that even if he dug it out, _Jefe_ Reyes would be on his ass before he even cleared this building, let alone the base. If it was a base… Not like he had seen much of it other than the holdin’ cell, his room ( _his very own room_ ) and Reyes’ office. And the medbay, where he had wasted pretty much all yesterday.

 

He might have finally been cleared, but this hallway wasn’t hardly more enjoyable than all the prodding yesterday. He was bored enough that he was attempting to pick what turned out to be a very complicated electronic lock on the supply room when someone else came down the hallway. He was dressed in a blue uniform, just like from the Overwatch posters complete with some sort of insignia and that little O plastered everywhere. The man looked suspiciously at Jesse as he slammed the lock panel closed and jumped away from the wall. _Nice, real smooth_ he scolded himself.

 

“What are you doing here, kid?” Uniform demanded in a weird accent. He crossed his arms and glared at Jesse. McCree just glared back. He was Deadlock, he didn’t back down from a blonde asshat on an authority trip. He had proven that back in the cell with Good Cop Golden Boy.

 

“Nothin’” he eventually said once he had made his point.

 

“Do you even have authority to be on this base?” Uniform asked, frowning. When Jesse didn’t respond, blondie tried to grab him. Jesse ducked out of reach. Damn it, not even half an hour on his own and he was fuckin’ everything up. Reyes would be beyond pissed if he got dragged off… he would have to try to explain after all.

 

“Course I do,” he tried to say, “Reyes told me to wait here.”

 

“Reyes?” the asshat seemed confused, and hadn’t stopped trying to corner Jesse.

 

“Yeah, Reyes, he said he’s in charge of Black-” Jesse was abruptly silenced by a large gloved hand that smelled of gunpowder slapping over his mouth. He was yanked back by what he assumed was Reyes’ arm. Jesse tried to turn to look _, yep, Reyes,_ but Reyes didn’t let him move his head from where he had it pinned against his chest. He kept the hand over Jesse’s mouth as he smoothly finished, “-History Month planning committee. We’re getting an early start this year.”

 

Blondie looked at Reyes with disbelief. He opened his mouth, about to say something, and closed it again. Uniform stared some more, desire to call Reyes out on what was clearly a lie balanced with an his lack of idea of how to do it without sounding racist.

 

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?” Reyes asked threateningly, clearly daring the soldier to put up or shut up. Jesse tried to get Reyes to take his hand off his mouth by biting him. The glove must have blunted his teeth, because Reyes didn’t even flinch. Also it tasted terrible. Reyes tightened his grip on Jesse and kept up the staring contest. Uniform caved first.

 

“No…”

 

“No what, Lieutenant?” Reyes positively growled, authority dripping from his voice.

 

“Sir, no, sir” Uniform snapped out complete with salute, even though Jesse hadn’t seen anything resembling rank markings on Reyes.

 

“That’s what I thought. Get lost.”

 

Reyes stood silently, keeping Jesse muzzled until the hallway was empty again. Then he left him go, but not before making a face and wiping his glove on Jesse’s sweatshirt. He supposed he deserved that.

 

“Fucking hell kid, what part of ‘clandestine organization’ do you not understand?” Reyes growled at him before Jesse could demand to know where he had been for the last half hour.

 

“The clandestine part…” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. The topic of how far he had gotten in school had come up, and his evasive answers probably weren’t going to hold out for long.

 

“It means secret,” the big boss said with a glance that was full of annoyance rather than pity, “In this case it means ‘black-ops division that Overwatch rank and file doesn’t need to know about’ with a side of ‘the first rule of Blackwatch is don’t talk about Blackwatch’ and just a pinch of ‘if I told you I’d have to kill you.’ On paper, as far as Overwatch is concerned, you’re an external asset for the Strategic Operations and Intelligence Division.”

 

“What’s that, exactly,” Jesse demanded. He didn’t get why everything here had to be so complicated. In Deadlock, you didn’t hide how big and bad you were. You flaunted it.

 

“In addition to our own interests, Blackwatch does most of the groundwork before any Overwatch mission. We provide the information they need to inform their plan of attack. At first glace we’re suppose to seem like all we do is handle the scutwork: map-making, recon, all that. No one in Overwatch really questions where we get the info we use. And it’s the kind of role where you can stash someone with rank that you want to support, but not overshadow, your golden new Strike-Commander”

 

“And external asset?” He wanted to ask more about how Reyes ended up in Blackwatch, but it seemed like it might be a touchy subject.

 

“That’s code for ‘criminal that I decided to give a second chance’ but people will assume it means contractor. It helps explain your complete lack of military discipline and… non-traditional appearance, cowboy. Also Morrison drew the line at making a minor a full Agent,” Reyes said with a smirk, “So next time some asshole with a new promotion and too much time on their hands asks, you say ‘I’m with the Strategic Operations and Intelligence Division’ and if that doesn’t shut them up you can say ‘I report directly to _Commander_ Reyes’ and then glare at them. Yeah, just like that. And if that doesn’t work, _lie_. But if I hear that Lieutenant Busybody vonOverwatch is suddenly appraised of the existence of a deeply illicit covert-ops division within his bright and shiny organization, you’re going to fucking wish I had _allowed_ you to go straight to prison, _carbrón_. _Comprende_?” Any amusement that might have been present in Reyes was gone now, replaced with the pure menace he had displayed when he had first entered Jesse’s holding cell.

 

“Yeah _Jefe_ , I got it.” Jesse swallowed nervously from where he had backed himself up into the wall.

 

“Good. This will help keep people off your back,” Reyes said as he tossed some sort of ID card to Jesse. It had a picture of him and everything, though Jesse wasn’t sure when it had been taken, other than sometime since _jefe_ let him out. Reyes then turned to the lock panel, which was still partly hanging open and frowned at it. He rubbed the bridge of his nose while sighing and muttering something about _not signing up for this_.

 

“I would say give it a try, but I’m pretty sure you broke the card reader. So instead, now we’re going to go to my office where you will get to watch me fill out a work order while you take a placement quiz. No agent of mine is going to get out of my rhetorical devices due to lack of education. By the time you’re a full Agent, you had best believe you’re going to have finished your GRE. Which means you’d better buckle up cowboy; your file implied that’s a whole lot of schooling in the next year.” Reyes was smiling by the end of that. It was not a nice smile. But it still made Jesse’s mouth quirk in response. No one had really cared about how he did in school since… never really.

 

It felt nice.

 

Well. Until the results of the quiz came in. Then it became _terrifying_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given how secret Blackwatch is supposed to be, they must have some sort of cover for the rest of Overwatch, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Winston doesn't seem like he would be up to date on a lot of old pop culture references, so I figured McCree would be more than happy to bring up up to speed.


End file.
